


His other job

by tall_wolf_of_tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, F/M, Fluff, Fuck or write, Meadows at Tarth, Pregnancy, Tarth, Trying To Conceive, fuck or write au we deserve during our fic exchange writing month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/pseuds/tall_wolf_of_tarth
Summary: Jaime needs to finish his book. Brienne wants to get pregnant. A deal is made.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 50
Kudos: 204





	His other job

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for @EmpressM and @bluecarrot for beta-reading this 🥰

It's Jaime's idea, of course. And she agrees to it, desperate as she is. To have a baby with him.

They have known each other since University when the times were more simple and they hated each other with passion. They were both in sports teams, and both studied Common Tongue and Literature department and clashed in the melee fields and the libraries.

It's much more complicated now. Brienne sees Jaime from time to time, in conventions or parties and sometimes at the dusty hallways at Citadel where Jaime is researching his latest book he tries to write and where Brienne is looking through the references to the book she will never write.

He finds her there, hiding behind a moving shelf, a phone in her hand and tears on her face having just found out the second worst news in her life. 

Jaime has always been good pulling secrets out of her. It takes a better part of the night in his hotel room and a good deal of Ironborn vodka and Brienne's resolve not to tell anyone ever crumbles. He gently prods and coaxes and then suddenly she pours it all out. Her wish to have a baby, the horrible amount of money she paid to the clinic, and the aftermath when the scandal about that same clinic had hit the news.

Jaime had heard about the scandal like everyone in Westeros. How Dr Quiburn’s fertility clinic had used only one donor to sire at least 116 babies.

“Did you...” Jaime looks horrified.

“No,” Brienne sniffs. “My treatment was supposed to start that same week the news hit. But I paid it all in advance. And I never got the money back, he is bankrupted, you see. And now I have to pay for lawyers too. They just called that my case was rejected.”

She feels the tears come again and a big wail forming in her throat.

“And now I'm bankrupt too. And Catelyn's company is going under soon, Renly is dead to the world and I'm going to be jobless, homeless and I’ll never have a baby.” 

After some more wailing, vodka and talking, Brienne is calmer and Jaime has an idea that sounds entirely reasonable. 

Jaime suggests, not the first time, that Brienne would help him to finish his book. She would work as his editor-slash-babysitter, beat him into submission and nag at him until he writes it. What's new is his suggestion that in return, he would donate his sperm to her.

“Weelll, I mean we'd do it the old-fashioned way, not in some horrid clinic, I mean we could just fuck,” he drawls on and Brienne, in drunken stupor, giggles. “You'd like that, I know. I've made you come before, and you liked it, babe,” he slurs and wraps his arms around her. “Even when you did run away afterwards.” 

That damn one time in Harrenhal when they had fallen into a tub and then into bed. She  _ had _ liked it. “You’d have a baby, and I would finally finish my book.”

Brienne has until now refused to be his editor. Because he is annoying as fuck, gets under her skin and they fight constantly if left in the same room for more than 10 minutes.

“You would have a baby with me?” she looks at him.

“Why not,” he nudges her. “You would be the best mum. You're calm, practical and you like children. And you'd let me see the baby because you're honourable like that.”

Brienne doesn't know what to say. She has until now lived in the impression that no man would ever want to have a baby with her, and now the prettiest man she knows just offered to do just that.

She looks at him and pets his soft hair. Jaime purrs like a cat.

“I should leave,” she sighs.

They end up fucking instead.

In the morning when she wakes up with his arms around her and his leg between hers she thinks very long and very hard at his suggestion. It's not until they are sitting on the balcony, eating their breakfast she puts down her coffee cup and decides.

“Alright,” she tells him. “If you still want this, I agree.”

***

Brienne finds them a house at Tarth. It belongs to her uncle Endrew, who lives at the Wall now with his boyfriends. It takes Brienne a few weeks to pack up the contents of her apartment to a storage unit, put everything else into her car and drive to the ferry terminal to meet Jaime.

Jaime's car is so full of crap that he can hardly see out of it. He greets Brienne with a kiss on the cheek, ruffles around the car and hands her a canvas bag. Brienne stares at a huge box of ovulation tests with weirdly happy bears drawn on the box. There are two more boxes in the bag. 

“Lannister always pays his debts,” Jaime announces and Brienne already regrets this stupid plan.

***

The house is lovely, although old-fashioned. There are two similar bedrooms across each other upstairs, although only one has a writing desk on it so Brienne assigns this to Jaime.

Downstairs is a sitting area and kitchen with a dining table and a small shady library.

“Babe, can you turn on the wifi,” Jaime yells from upstairs.

“There is no wifi,” she yells back to him. He stumbles down the stairs in less than a second.

“What do you mean there is no wifi?” he looks panicky. “What if I need to look up a word from a dictionary?”

Brienne looks around the huge bookshelf and finds a brick-sized Citadel's Common Tongue Dictionary that looks at least 150 years old. Jaime looks at it like it would bite him.

“What if I need a newer word? Or a slang word?”

“Your book is historical fiction, no slang words allowed.”

“Well, is there 5G then?” She shakes her head. “4G? 3G? Edge?”

“There is no data, Jaime. No internet.” He crashes to the sofa.

“This is the worst…” he whimpers. 

“Man up, Lannister. You're not leaving the island until you have finished your book!”

“You are so cruel, babe. I might love you.”

***

Two days after settling at Tarth house Brienne comes out of the bathroom, all red on her face and holding a pee stick.

Jaime is sitting on the comfy chair by the fireplace with his laptop pretending to write. In truth, he is just watching the first episode of his favourite tv-series. It's the only one he had downloaded to his laptop and he has now watched it seventeen times in a row. He has written three new words to his book and deleted two paragraphs. He still has time before his slacking will be discovered, as Brienne hasn't still finished reading the manuscript.

Jaime closes the video and opens the word processor before he gets caught lazing off.

“Umm,” Brienne meeps with an odd voice.

“What is it, babe? Why are you all red?” She waves the pee stick.

“Umm, I think it says I'm ovulating.” Brienne is positively puce on her face and Jaime feels his cock twitching in his sweatpants.

“What do you mean, you think? Are you or not?”

“Well, it has this dancing bear on it...” She hands him the stick. It has a small digital display, and there is a small dancing bear on it, hearts flying around him. “Where did you buy these, Jaime?”

“Online,” Jaime shrugs. Brienne takes the stick back from him and goes back to the loo to look at the box. He discards his laptop and follows.

“There's nothing more here, only that the dancing bear means I'm fertile.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“Nothing, it blinked a little and went blank.”

He grins. “Well, I suppose we know then what this means, babe...”

Brienne is still very much red on her face and Jaime feels himself growing hard. He steps closer to her. Brienne smells so wonderful and is dressed in lovely short pyjama pants and a frayed tank top.

He slides his fingers carefully across her cheek, down to her throat and across her collar bones. She shivers a little, and then their mouths slam into each other.

Three hours later they lay naked in Brienne's bed, breathless and exhausted. Fucking Brienne last time was been pretty fantastic, but fucking Brienne  _ sober _ was even better.

“Gods, Jaime,” she groans. “I didn't realise...” and she just groans again and hides her face to his neck and makes Jaime feel very proud.

“For services rendered,” he kisses her muscled shoulder and rises from the bed. “You'll take a nap and I'll make us breakfast, babe.”

“My name is Brienne, not babe!”

***

“You know,” he stuffs a sausage to his mouth and reads the leaflet that came with the pee sticks. “It says here that the ovulation window lasts 2-3 days.” Brienne looks up from her coffee and bites her lip.

They return to the bed later and hardly get out of it for the next three days. 

***

On the fourth day, Jaime wakes up alone and finds Brienne downstairs, reading his manuscript and scribbling notes.

“Sit down and write,” she points to his laptop.

“I was going to make us breakfast, babe,” he kisses her temple.

“We're out of food, so write. I'll go buy some food later.”

“But I don't know what to write,” Jaime pouts. His babe is the cruellest.

“You said you don't have an ending. So write out all possible endings.”

“They're all shit,” Jaime moans and goes to make some coffee.

“Write your fucking endings, Lannister! And if I find out you are writing RPF about the Blue Knight again I'll hang you by your balls!” Brienne yells after him. Little later Jaime hears the front door banging and the car engine starting.

She is grumpy all day, and many days after that and that makes Jaime grumpy too. He gets even grumpier because he can't sleep in his big and uncomfortable bed. Brienne's bed is so much better but when Jaime suggests swapping the rooms Brienne throws a pillow at him. He spends the day hiding in Uncle Endrew's library, reading ancient cooking books. Later he writes two endings to his book, both of which are shit, prints them out and adds it to the pile on top of the dining room table.

He finds Brienne crying there later.

“Hey,” he kneels in front of her. He feels a lump forming in his throat. “Don't cry, babe. I know they were shit, but I'll try better. I'll write something better, I promise.”

“What?” she looks at him. “I'm not crying because your shitty endings, I'm crying because I got my period.”

“Oh. Come on then.” He takes her upstairs to her bedroom, tucks her under a knitted blanket and brings her a glass of wine and some chocolate. They end up napping together, or at least Brienne naps and Jaime thinks of his book and almost figures out a decent ending. He writes it later that day and Brienne smiles while reading it.

Three days later she appears on the loo door with the stick with a dancing bear.

“It's way too soon,” Brienne frowns, but doesn't resist when Jaime pulls her to the bed. And she doesn't resist when he pulls her to the sofa later that day. And to his lap in the library the next day, and she doesn't resist either when he lifts her to the kitchen counter and proceeds to eat her out.

“Orgasms are supposed to increase the possibilities of conception,” he grins at her when she lifts her eyebrows. Brienne makes this lovely noise later and it's so adorable and hot so he eats her out again on the sofa the next day. When she naps there, sprawled on top of him and sniffling in her sleep, Jaime reads Uncle Endrew's knitting books and doesn't think about writing at all.

There is something odd in Tarth air because it makes Brienne so sleepy. Jaime gets soon used to walking to a room and finding Brienne napping somewhere. On the sofa, on Jaime's bed, in the hammock at the patio, or sitting at the dining room, head on top of his manuscript. 

“Babe,” he wakes her gently and peels off the page that has stuck to her face.

“My name is Brienne,” she grumbles and goes to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.

A few days later she walks out of the bathroom, not red at the face at all, but biting her lip and looking at Jaime with hunger in her eyes. He barely glances at the stick before lifting her and carrying to the bed.

“Gods, I love this,” he chants while fucking her. “I love your cunt, I love your sweet little tits, you're so fucking hot Brienne, I'm so fucking lucky to get to fuck you like this.”

“Yes,” she cries, “yes, Jaime, yes,” and then, “fuck yes.”

After three days of fucking they finally leave the house. “You're not writing anyway, we might as well go see the sights,” Brienne grumbles.

“I'm not writing because I'm busy with my  _ other job _ ,” he snickers and makes Brienne groan loudly. 

“Why are you so grumpy, babe?” he catches her to his arms and hugs her from behind. “You are so horridly grumpy, you ate all the blueberry pie I baked you yesterday and you sleep all the time. You are like a bear.” Brienne grumbles and tries to walk towards the car.

“I'm going to lick honey from your hair,” Jaime sings to her ear which finally makes Brienne laugh.

“You can do that later, not now,” she scolds. “Now we're going to see my ancestral castle. Oh, and I decided that I'm going to write  _ my _ book while we’re here. The lack of wifi is really helping.” 

***

Two days later she comes out of the bathroom angry as a bear woken from the nap.

“It's the fucking bear again?! I can't be ovulating twice a week, this is fucking rubbish.”

She throws the packet of sticks on him. “You piss on one, let's see what it says.”

When he comes out of the bathroom, the bear on the stick is not dancing. It's sleeping. Little zeds rise from his head.

“The fifth one worked. All the others were just blank.” Brienne stares at the sleeping bear, which is admittedly cute.

“They're all fucking rubbish,” she sighs and goes to the loo to bin all the pee sticks, used and unused.

“We'll just have to buy better ones, babe,” he pets her hair later in the bed. He never did move back to his own bed and Brienne hasn't kicked him out yet. The windows are opened wide and the night air feels fresh and nice. He can see the Moonmaid blinking in the night sky. It's nice here at Tarth, he thinks.

“We can't buy ovulation tests here,” she says quietly. “Everyone will know by dinnertime that I'm trying to get pregnant.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes! This is a tiny island, and everyone is far too invested in other people's lives. Someone would call my dad, and then he would come home from Essos and try to be helpful.”

Jaime has always been slightly terrified of Brienne's father.

“How would  _ he _ be helpful?”

“I don't know? By bringing me seaweed salads and offering you sex tips or something,” she shudders.

“I don't need any sex tips,” Jaime kisses her shoulder and slips his hand inside her sleeping shorts. “No, you don't,” she turns around and kisses him.

He finds the solution in one of Uncle Endrew's books. It's one of those pre-war guidebooks for newly married women.

“We just need to fuck all the time.” 

“Really?” Brienne rolls her pretty eyes.

“Yes, really, babe.” He leafs through the book. “Where was it, oh yes, here.” Brienne sits down next to him, her thigh touching his. “...intercourse should be attempted at least every day or whenever your husband is inclined,” he recites triumphantly. “It also says that you should eat more seaweed and exercise regularly.”

“That's so fucking sexist,” Brienne grunts. “Also it's only because they didn't have reliable ways to know when the woman was ovulating.”

“Babe, neither do we,” Jaime sighs and puts his mouth on her ear. “Well, wifey, I'm quite inclined. Are you?”

He sees her struggling with the sexism in the book and the need to be contrary to everything that Jaime suggests but the corners of her eyes are crinkling up. He only needs to slide his hand between her creamy thighs and nudge her little with his nose.

“Fuck yes,” she sighs and pushes him down the sofa. “But you'll have to do some writing later.”

“Gods, babe, yes, I'll write,” he babbles a little later. “I'll do anything you want, promise. I'll be good, please Brienne. Just let me.”

She lets him.

Later, she makes him sit in the dining room and write half a chapter before she lets him again.

***

“Jaime,” she tells him by the dinner while he spoons some wakame salad to her plate. Her hair is wet from the swim in the sea. “Let me see what you have written in the last weeks.”

“Sure, babe,” he remarks casually while trying not to sweat too much. He  _ has _ written things, but those are not suitable for Brienne’s eyes.

He is only saved by her falling asleep right after the dinner.

“Jaime,” she sighs in the morning. “I don't think it's normal that I sleep so much.”

“I don't think so either, babe.”

***

Brienne books a doctor's appointment to the local health care centre and only grumbles a little when Jaime pushes to the room with her. And it turns out that it's entirely appropriate that he is there to hold her hand.

“Four months?” Brienne gasps when the doctor delivers them the news. “I can't be four months pregnant, I mean we only started trying three months ago.”

The ultrasound nurse and the doctor both look slightly uncomfortable.

“Babe,” Jaime is going through his calendar app. “We did, you know. We did bang that one time at The Citadel.” 

“But I had my period,” she argues, still not believing, even though there is a baby on the screen of the ultrasound machine.

“It's not uncommon for women to bleed a little during pregnancies,” the doctor explains.

“But we used these ovulation tests, and I was ovulating basically all the time.” She launches then into a rant about the stupid pee sticks.

“Oh, were those the ones with little cute bears on them?” asks the ultrasound nurse. “Those were recalled as only about 20% of them worked. You should claim your money back.”

Brienne stares at the roof of the room. Jaime takes her hand and kisses it.

“And the thing about ovulation tests is that they also work rather well as pregnancy tests,” continues the doctor. Brienne hears Jaime muffling a snort.

“Congratulations, Ms Tarth. An heir to Tarth, this is a day for celebration for all the island,” the doctor beams at them.  _ Fuck _ .

***

They are standing in the parking lot of the clinic and Jaime is shining like a golden god. A very virile and fertile god. Brienne is still slightly in shock. All this time when the tests were showing that she was ovulating, it was actually her being pregnant.

“So all this fucking we did in the last three months was basically useless?”

Jaime doesn't get to answer before Brienne's phone rings. 

“Sweetling,” her dad cries on the phone. “An heir to Tarth, I'm so happy,” he blubs. “I'm coming home with the next plane. You should eat more seaweed, sweetling.” 

She puts away the phone and looks at Jaime who pulls her to a hug with a smile.

“The fucking was  _ not _ useless, babe. It made you relaxed and happy.” And Brienne realises, she  _ is _ happy. Deliriously so. Because of Jaime.

“Just only one more goal to achieve before we can get off this island,” he laughs and lifts her to spin. 

“I’ll make sure you’ll finish your book, Jaime. I promise.” 

***

Jaime is busy finishing his book at the patio when his phone buzzes at the table. Brienne is napping at the hammock, snoring slightly. He has to write one more chapter, redo the ending and add some missing scenes before the first draft is finished. The call is from his father, so he rejects it and turns off his phone.

“Jaime,” Brienne wakes up. “How is the chapter coming up?”

“I don't know babe,” he sighs and doesn't need to pretend to look guilty. “I was writing RPF about the Blue Knight again.”

***

_ Some time later _

Jaime closes the laptop and hides it at the top of the wardrobe. The baby is asleep on his shoulder, snoring slightly, pale white strands of hair sticking up from her head.

He should put her to her cradle to sleep, but Jaime loves carrying her around. It makes the writing harder, but it's still doable.

He goes down to the patio where Brienne is snoring at the hammock. Two adorable blond children are playing quietly at the grass nearby with toy knights. 

“Dada,” the younger one greets him. “Come and play with us.”

“Shh, Dunc, don't wake up mummy or the baby.”

“I'm already awake,” Brienne sighs and stretches her arms so Jaime gives her the baby and a kiss.

Later, when all three kids are upstairs tucked away in their beds, Brienne comes to the library with a glass of wine and sits next to him on the sofa.

“How's your book coming up, Jaime?” she asks him.

Jaime sweats nervously.

“Umm... I might need to redo the ending,” he stammers. “Again.”

Brienne narrows her eyes.

“Jaime,” she uses her stern voice. The one that makes the children eat their tomatoes and clean the toys from the stairs. Jaime swallows. “Jaime,  _ I know _ about your book.”

He closes his eyes. “I'll finish it next month, promise,” he tries but fails immediately.

“I know that you  _ have _ finished it,” Brienne tells him gently.  _ Shit _ . Oh well, it was worth the try. His life on the island has been a beautiful, but fleeting, dream.

“And, I know about the two others you have finished as well.” He lifts his head. Brienne is rolling her pretty blue eyes.

“I'm not going to leave you because you have finished your book, dumbass.” Relief floods Jaime. Brienne puts away her wineglass and kisses him gently. 

“I want to finish my book too,” she smiles. “And when I’ve published it, and you have published all three you have written, we could have one more baby.”

“Deal, babe.” He pulls her to sit on his lap. “Do you want to read the RPF fic I wrote about the Blue Knight? It got loads of kudo and hits.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jaime has to walk up the hill and stand on top of a rock to get enough data to upload his RPF to AO3. 
> 
> The real reason why Jaime hasn't published the books he has written is that they are full of smut based on their sex life.
> 
> The fact about the ovulation tests working as pregnancy tests is true. hCG and LH (hormones related to pregnancy and ovulation) are like twins who look alike. It’s just that pregnancy test needs to find a twin wearing a hat (or in this case a beard) while ovulation test reacts to both twins.  
> Did I just compare Jaime Lannister to hCG? Yes I did.


End file.
